My Turn for Love
by stevie.boyette
Summary: Not much is said or seen of the third Sinclair brother. When a new stranger comes into the picture, the spotlight is finally on Lester.
1. Chapter 1

A tan Mazda SUV navigated through the curves of the mountain road, driving steadily just above the speed limit. The car's only occupant reached over to switch off the air conditioning, then pushed a button to lower the windows. Twenty six-year-old Leslie Burch inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh air that she never really got to experience when living in the big city of Atlanta. Next, she turned her radio up louder, purposely choosing a hard-core rap station in an attempt to drown out her own thoughts.

The whole reason she decided to venture across state lines on her own was to get away from everybody, but now she was rethinking that decision. Not even three months before, her college sweetheart and boyfriend of five years decided to end the relationship. There wasn't anyone else in the picture or anything shady, but it was obvious to both of them that their time together needed to come to an end. Leslie sighed softly, not able to keep Jack's face from popping into her head.

Jack was a very handsome man, hardworking and kind to Leslie and the rest of his loved ones. They had met through mutual friends when they were sophomores in college; he went to Harvard Law and she was an art major at the University of Massachusetts. They were complete opposites and quickly fell for each other, moving in together right after she graduated. She supported him through the rest of schooling and was there for him as he quickly became a well-known lawyer, helped by his wealthy parents connections. But he was good at what he did, winning the majority of his cases.

However, over the past six months, Leslie grew tired of Jack, no longer feeling as in love as she did before. He must have started feeling the same too; they stopped going on dates, rarely kissed, and weren't intimate anymore. Right before the breakup, they sat down together and made a plan, figuring out if they would keep their apartment or not and things like that. A few months later, the two went their separate ways, although seeing each other every once in a while when spending time with certain friends. At those times, they were very civil towards each other and partook in normal conversation.

But it still broke her heart all over again whenever she saw him. After all, she did spend a great portion of her life with that man, and it hurt that it was over now, even though she knew breaking up was the right decision for them. In addition to , Leslie needed some time away from her friends too. They were all great after hearing about the breakup, making sure she didn't spend all her time moping around but also offered their shoulders to cry on if she needed. But every single time she saw them, the first thing she faced was their looks of pity. And that got old real fast.

So Leslie was now cruising down the scenic route of Louisiana, over seven hours away from anyone she knew and completely alone with her thoughts. She had just begun to second guess her spontaneous mini-vacation when a loud pop exploded in her ears. The car spun to the right, making Leslie slam into her door and smack her head against the door frame. The impact made her hands slip off the steering wheel and the car freely drove itself into a small meadow, jerking to a stop as it suddenly became stuck in a trench.

Leslie smashed back into her seat and stared out the windshield, her eyes wide in shock. When she finally gathered herself, she opened the door and walked around the car. It only took a quick inspection of the passenger side to realize the cause of the accident: the right front tire had burst open, pieces of it still up on the side of the road. She groaned in frustration and ran her hands through her hair, staring at her broken car.

"What am I gonna do?" she asked herself, shaking her head in astonishment. A car passed by her at that point, not even slowing down. Leslie flicked them off; she couldn't believe how unkind some people could be. She opened the passenger door and reached inside to get her cell phone. She sighed and tried holding it up while walking around, but there was no signal. Kneeling down, she put her head in her hands and tried desperately to think of something to do. Maybe there was a gas station or at least a pay phone up the road somewhere.

But then, the sound of a vehicle coming to a stop made Leslie look up. "You need some help?" the voice called out before closing their door behind them. A man in his early thirties stepped around his bright yellow truck, walking towards her with a kind smile on his face. He offered her his hand once he reached her, pulling her into a standing position. "Thanks," she replied, returning his smile. She pointed to the space where her tire once was. "It just kind of... exploded," she explained, frowning now.

The man hooked her car up then nudged his head back in the direction of his truck. "Why don't you go sit inside while I finish up here? My shop is just about twenty minutes up the road." Leslie nodded, her face going pale as she imagined walking all the way there; that would take much more than twenty minutes on foot. Afterwards, the two introduced themselves as they drove down the road. His name was Bo and he owned a car repair shop and gas station in a small town called Ambrose; apparently he was driving back from Thibodaux when he spotted the car stranded in the middle of the field.

Being an older truck, Bo's air conditioning didn't work, so they had to settle with having the windows rolled down. Leslie didn't mind, of course; the sweet-smelling breeze calmed her as it flowed through her wavy black hair. She hung her arm out the window and allowed the wind to brush across her bare skin, closing her eyes at the soothing sensation. It wasn't very long before they came to a halt. Leslie reopened her eyes, got out of the car and stepped inside the store when Bo held open the door for her.

She could see the infamous House of Wax right up the hill and gave it a quick sad glance. Bo had already explained the heartbreaking story of the family behind it: the wax artist mother going insane, the husband shooting himself out of grief, and their children left as orphans, sent away to live with whoever would take them. She turned herself away and sat down in a chair in the reception area, instead watching the kind stranger as he backed his truck up and got her car inside the opposite side of the building to start working on it.

She quietly flipped through the magazines sitting on the table in the waiting room. Suddenly, an ad for Southern University School of Law appeared in front of her. She stared at it for a second, but eventually closed the magazine and setting it to the side, sighing sadly. The clock on the wall in front of her ticked loudly, catching her attention and letting her know that nearly an hour had passed. It was then that she noticed the clock was the only noise she could hear. The sounds of the wrench ratcheting and metal clanging had stopped, filling the shop with silence.

Leslie stood up, walking over to the door separating the waiting room and mechanic garage, gingerly poking her head past the doorway. Although she saw no one there, she called the man's name. "Bo?" Her voice echoed slightly in the empty space, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She looked back and forth between the two parts of the building, starting to get worried now. Another glance in the other room showed her that the garage door was still closed, and she hadn't heard it open, so he couldn't have left through there.

Suddenly, something slammed into the back of Leslie's head. She cried out in pain as she fell to the hard concrete floor, her skull already throbbing. She rolled herself off her side and looked up at what hit her. Bo stood over her body, a crowbar gripped in his hand, a nasty smirk on his lips. But before she could utter a word, Leslie succumbed to unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

The bumping and jostling of the truck driving on the uneven dirt path shook Leslie awake. She looked around, her eyes darting, and she realized she was in the small, cramped backseat. He didn't notice her stir, so she decided to keep very still, impatiently waiting for the truck to come to a stop. Once they had halted, Bo glanced in the back and Leslie closed her eyes quickly, trying to look as if she were still sleeping.

Leslie tensed up as she heard the man step out of the vehicle and walk around to the other side. When the back door started opening, she took her chance and kicked it hard with her foot, causing the door to slam against Bo and knocking him down. She immediately began running in the direction of town, not pausing to look behind her. Once she reached the town center, she whipped around, looking for a place to hide. The small white church caught her eye, so she sprinted in that direction.

The sound of piano music drifted to Leslie's ears before she even opened the door and relief flooded through her as she burst inside. "Please!" she begged, running down the aisle, "Someone help me!" No one moved, they didn't even seem to notice her loud voice interrupting their service. "Wh-" She turned around in circles, looking at all the frozen figures that sat in the pews. None of them were real.

Leslie gasped, stopping and looking at the priest that stood behind the pulpit. His glazed over eyes bore back at hers, chilling her straight to the core. She finally noticed the large object that all the statues seemed to be focused on. A casket sat in front of the priest, its lid propped open. She looked around at the crowd once more, seeing that they were all dressed in mourning clothes. Leslie took a tentative step towards one of the churchgoers and gently removed the leaflet from their open palms.

Our Beloved Sister: Trudy Sinclair

She struggled to take a breath as she took a few steps toward the casket, but it felt as if her lungs had shrunk down to nothing. The older women lay inside, her arms crossed over her chest, looking anything but peaceful. Her mouth was pulled down in a frown, giving off a disappointed expression to any who dared look at her. Leslie heard the footsteps coming up behind her, but she couldn't tear herself away from the scene in front of her.

"She was your mother, wasn't she?" Bo took a sharp inhale and Leslie took that as a yes. She finally turned to him, her body feeling as stiff as the corpse next to her. Bo was shocked when he looked at her; she was still, looking both scared and submissive. Leslie had already begun to realize that the man standing in front of her had many dark secrets and would go to any lengths to get his way. So, she was giving up. She wasn't willing to risk her life.

Her eyes shut tight and she shuddered lightly as Bo held her hands behind her back and tied them securely. When he covered her mouth with a thick cloth, the panic really set in. But she didn't even have the chance to whimper in protest as the familiar thick cloud of darkness enclosed her and she slipped back into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

*Note: this story is set in the present time, as if Carly, Nick, Wade, and the rest of them never came across the Sinclair brothers*

Two months had passed in the town of Ambrose, and its new citizen was getting to the point of exhaustion. Bo had confirmed Leslie's suspicions long ago that something evil was going on in this town, and he constantly held the threat of turning her into wax over her head to keep her in line. But she had a good head on her shoulders and was smart enough to not disobey his orders; she quickly grasped how psychopathic Bo really was. His brother Vincent wasn't as bad as him, but still entombed other human beings in a wax casing without giving it a second thought. However, she also knew that he had probably been taught the evils of others his entire life by his parents, then brainwashed by his own brother.

After this short amount of time, Leslie had gained enough of their trust to be able to explore the town, but she rarely did so. Each time she even caught a glimpse of the House of Wax or the church, she felt absolutely sick to her stomach. So her days were spent pacing around her room, or other parts of the Sinclair home. And when she became too restless, she would sweep the kitchen or rearrange the throw pillows on the couch in the living room. After a while, it became her normal routine; she kept her hands and mind busy so she wouldn't think about the horrors that sat right down the road.

"You missed a spot." Bo's teasing voice intruded Leslie's ears as she kneeled on her hands and knees, scrubbing a sticky smudge she had found on the floor. She ground her teeth together, trying to just ignore him; she already wasn't feeling too well, why did he have to keep antagonizing her? He walked over to her, moving himself down to her level, and she looked up at him tiredly. "You know, you might consider doing this in town," he said, "the rest of the house looks pretty clean." She sighed and stood up, knowing his comment was more of an order than a suggestion. "Where should I start?"

* * *

Leslie stood in the center of the Happy Tails Pet Store, placing the mop back in its bucket. The counters were wiped down and the floors were now freshly swept and moped. She wiped her hand across her forehead, a combination of sweat and chills running through her body. Groaning, she turned and gripped the edge of the counter, pressing all her weight against it, suddenly feeling dizzy. Of course, at that moment, a bell rang, signaling that the front door had been opened.

Looking up, she was shocked to find Vincent towering over her. Not like normal how she only reached his shoulders; it looked as if he had suddenly grown ten feet tall. "Vince-?" Leslie stammered, but barely got out his name when her eyes rolled back in to her head.

* * *

Bo sat in the living room, his feet perched on the coffee table and the tv remote in his hand. Not that they got more than three channels in Ambrose, but there was hardly any other way to pass the time than to channel surf through static. The front door opened with a bang and Bo watched his twin step inside, Leslie's limp body swinging from side to side over his shoulder. "What in the hell?" he asked, standing up and making room for Vincent to put the girl down on the couch.

Vincent simply lifted the bottom of his mask up and cleared his throat several times before speaking. "Fainted," he grunted and pulled Bo's hand down to the girl's forehead. He hissed softly as he felt the unmistakable heat of a fever. Vincent had already moved into the kitchen sink, soaking a dish cloth under the stream of cold water. When he came back over, Bo quickly snatched it and kept it pressed it onto her scalp as Vincent scooped her into his arms again. They both headed up the stairway, taking careful steps until they finally laid her down on the bed.

They stood there in silence for a minute, watching her curl herself into a ball and started shivering. Bo shook his head before covering the girl with a quilt. Once she stopped shaking and settled contentedly against the pillows, Bo and Vincent walked out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind them. Looking each other in the eye, they both understood what they needed to do next. "Lester."


	4. Chapter 4

Leslie groaned, rubbing her eyes and pulled the cover from off her arms. Confused, she sat up slightly but froze when she looked next to her. An unfamiliar man sat in a chair that was placed by her bedside, and he watched her as she stirred. Without speaking, he reached his hand over and pressed it against her forehead a few times. "Well, your fever's gone down a bit," he said, almost making her jump when he finally talked.

She blinked at him, continuing to stare at him as she waited for him to explain what had happened. Instead, he handed her a half full glass of water and dropped two pills into her hand. "Vincent said you might've hit your head when you fainted. Those'll help." _Well I was pretty dizzy earlier_, she thought to herself, swallowing the aspirin with a gulp of water. She sat up fully this time, propping herself against the pillows behind her. "Who are you?" she finally asked, suddenly dying to know more about this stranger.

"Lester Sinclair," he replied, offering his hand for her to shake, "I'm the other brother." Leslie's eyes bulged at him as she stared unblinking. "A-are you serious?" He nodded, not looking fazed, and took a sip of water from his own glass. They sat there like that, listening to the clock tick in the background and not saying anything else. To her relief, Bo opened the door then and peeked his head through the door, grinning slyly when he saw that she was awake.

"You look like you're feeling better," he said as he sat at the foot of the bed. Leslie nodded, forcing herself to be alert and pay attention to her captor. She stiffened as Bo felt her forehead too, frowning slightly at how warm she still was. "Well, listen," he continued, "you just keep resting until you feel better. I don't want you leaving this house until you do, understand?" She nodded again, keeping her eyes on his to show that she was paying attention. He jerked his head toward Lester. "I'm assuming you've met my brother?"

Even though both men confirmed that they were indeed brothers, that face didn't cease to amaze Leslie. He went on to let her know that they requested that Lester be the one to help nurse her back to health; it was obvious Bo didn't want to do it, and Vincent didn't seem that comfortable around other living people. Once they were alone again, Leslie covered herself with the blanket again, noticing how Lester's eyes seemed to wander away from her face and down to her chest.

"I think I'm going to try and sleep some more," she said, speaking softly. He nodded wordlessly and raised the glass to his lips again, licking them. She restrained from shuddering and lay back down, turning to face the wall. But she found that was actually still very tired and closed her eyes, her creeped out feelings drifting away to make room for dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the next several days, Leslie and Lester bonded quickly. Behind the unsettling sexual nature was a sweet guy who was surprisingly good at nursing Leslie back to health. He always brought her meals to her room, insisting that she not get up unless she absolutely had to. And when she finally started going crazy of seeing the same four walls of her bedroom, he sat beside her on the couch, moving their card game into the living room.

"Any fours?" Lester asked, studying his deck. Leslie smirked in response. "Go fish." It was a nice, bright sunny afternoon outside, so they had turned off the lights and opened the blinds to let in some natural light. In the background, classical opera played on the small radio that sat on the table, its volume at a low setting. "What about.. a jack?" Lester teasingly sneered at her this time and shook his head. "Go fish," he replied, his tone mocking. They finished their game quickly, but decided against starting a new one; they had been playing various card games for almost an entire week.

Leslie reached over to the coffee table and turned off the radio, then grabbed the remote. "We don't get too many channels out here," Lester said, but she waved her hand, ignoring him. She flipped through a couple channels before shrieking with excitement. "Score!" she shouted, raising her arms into the air. "Woo, I'm thirsty," Spongebob exclaimed, pulling an extremely large pitcher of lemonade of out his fridge, "This is an extreme thirst." Leslie watched at the scene in front of her, giggling as the cartoon sponge put a paper umbrella on the last glass of many. "Boy, I can't wait to drink all these drinks.. April Fools! To me."

She burst into laughter, slapping her knee in amusement, and Lester chuckled. "What a weird little guy," he commented. Leslie whipped her head towards him, her eyes wide. "Do you mean to tell me that you've never seen Spongebob Squarepants before?" She gaped at him when he shook his head. She threw her arms up again, this time exasperated. "Spongebob Squarepants is a classic," she said gravely, pointing her finger in his nose. He fought back a laugh, trying to look as if he was taking her seriously.

Turning back towards the little tv, Leslie became reabsorbed in the show just as the next episode came on: "Neptune's Spatula." She laughed as Spongebob and Patrick went around the fry cook museum, oohing and aahing at each display, but muttered something under her breath about "they don't make episodes like this anymore." When Neptune pulled the arrangement of clouds apart, unknowingly revealing a man scrubbing himself in the shower. Leslie shuddered and groaned in fake disgust. "I hope the three of you aren't hairy like him, that's just disgusting." She froze after she finished her sentence, her eyes widening as she realized how suggestive that must have sounded.

He pressed his lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing at her. He shoved her playfully and grinned. Never before had he ever had such a great time just watching tv. It made him realized how much much he really enjoyed Leslie's company; she was a kind and genuine person. They sat there, the both of them looking down shyly, Spongebob's cackling laugh the only noise in the room. The end credits soon zoomed across the screen and a different show began playing.

"I wanted to thank you, Lester," she said, breaking the silence, "You've been very kind to me while I've been here, much nicer than your brothers. I know you don't have to do that since I'm your... prisoner." She exhaled softly before continuing. "I don't think you know how much that means to me. So thank you." Leslie looked back up at him through her long eyelashes. Lester found that he couldn't speak; he was so taken back by her words, so struck by her beauty that nothing but stammering came out of his mouth. But finally he stopped, shook his head a little, then smiled at her. "Well you are very welcome."

She smiled back at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She heard him take a soft, but sharp inhale, so she gave him a concerned look. He was staring at his hands in his lap, wringing them nervously. Once he gathered himself, he looked up at her again, studying her face. The sunlight shone down behind her, creating a halo of light, really making her look like an angel. They both leaned in each other's direction and he took her face into his hands, gently pulling her closer.

But at that moment, the front door swung open, blinding both of them with light. Bo walked inside just as they jerked their bodies away from each other. He looked at the two of them with his eyebrows raised in confusion; they looked like students who got caught passing a note by their teacher. "Ohh, uhh hey Bo," Lester stuttered, leaning back into the couch, trying to look relaxed. Bo didn't look convinced at his act, but decided not to say anything of it. Instead, he switched his gaze to look at Leslie.

"You're looking completely better," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her in disappointment. She quickly took the hint, turning off the tv and standing up. "Why don't you go get changed and help Lester out today." Her face brightened automatically at the thought of spending more time with her new friend, but the sly, almost sarcastic look on Bo's face made her second guess herself. What exactly was she supposed to be helping Lester with?

"You have got to be kidding me." Leslie and Lester stood on the grassy part of the side of the road, looking down at the corpse of a dead deer. Almost its entire body was matted with its own blood, except for the tail, which was strangely still a perfect white. Leslie gagged, covering her nose with her hand to block out the smell. It was already late afternoon and the deer didn't look like it had been hit anytime soon; she could almost see waves of vapor coming off it, lifting the stink right into her face.

She turned away, putting her hands on her knees and trying to find some fresh, clean air for her to breathe in. Lester laughed and walked over, giving her a slap on the back. "Just come on and help me get it on the back of the truck. It won't take but two seconds," he said, having a little too much fun at her expense. She grimaced, glancing over at the body again, and pouted when it looked like its glassy eyes were staring right at her, making her feel guilty about just standing there doing nothing.

She took a timid step back in the direction of the deer, squeezing her eyes shut before gripping two of its legs. "One, two," she counted quickly, throwing its body with all her might and letting go as soon as she got to 'two.' Wiping her hands feverishly on her pants and shuddering, she leapt back into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind her. "Okay, time to go!" she yelled out through the open window, making Lester laugh out loud before he got in the truck too.

Leslie hung her head out the window on the ride back, her face a light shade of green after loading two possums, a skunk, and another deer into the bed of the truck. Lester had just begun to worry about her until the reached the house again. Once he had put the truck in park, she jumped out and bolted inside, running past a stunned Bo and nearly knocked Vincent over on her way to the downstairs bathroom. The door slammed behind her and the sound of the shower being turned on hastily soon followed.

Lester walked in the house and closed the front door behind them just in time to hear Leslie strip off her ruined clothes, groaning in disgust as she hurriedly jumped in the shower. Bo chuckled and he slapped his brother on the back good-naturedly. "Ya'll have fun?" he asked with a grin. The two started mimicking the girl, pretending to scrub themselves with imaginary sponges when she returned into the living room, clad in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head. She did not look amused.

She crossed her arms across her chest and glared, but the men couldn't really take her seriously the way she was dressed. "Well don't you look just as fresh as a daisy," Lester said, stepping towards her with his arms extended towards her. She jerked backward and raised her hands up in defense. "Lester Sinclair, you'd better not put your hands on me unless you've had a decent shower first." He grinned at her and bowed his head. "Yes ma'am," he replied, turning to wink at his brothers. When he jumped in her direction as he walked past her, she yelped and leapt almost a foot in the air. The three men all burst into laughter even after Leslie growled, turning on her heel to go upstairs and change for dinner.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Lester and Leslie headed down the road, but only after he promised she wouldn't have to help throw any animal carcasses into the pit this time. She pouted sadly each time she saw a deer or dog that had been hit by a car and left to die on the side of the road. Lester tried reminding her that it was just in the animals' nature to chase down trucks or to get curious and run out in the middle of the road, but he kept quiet when she made the point of how bad he might feel if his dog were to accidentally get killed.

That was yet another thing Lester loved about Leslie: her caring and fondness for animals. The first time she ever met their dog Rusty, she was so loving to him that he followed her around like a puppy for the rest of that afternoon. He also could have sworn he had seen little birds hovering over her and singing, looking like Cinderella. She never ceased to amaze him. He gave her hand a squeeze before concentrating on the road again.

They went around the bend and Lester stiffened at the sight in front of them. There were two people walking on the side of the road, a light sheen of sweat already on their skin from the continuous rising sun. Leslie let out a soft gasp, just as surprised to see other people as he did. But Lester quickly shook off the initial shock and went into business mode, his mind only focusing on the issue at hand: getting them to Ambrose.

Leslie flinched and looked down in horror when she felt Lester's large hunting knife against her leg. And since she was wearing shorts, the blade was touching her right on her bare skin. "Now you just keep your mouth shut," he said in a grave tone, his face letting her there was no room for playing around. As they pulled up next to the hikers, his expression turned friendly and he now wore a kind grin. "You folks need some help?" he asked, pushing the knife closer to Leslie's skin. She forced herself to smile at the strangers too, hoping she didn't look hysterical.

They looked at each other and both sighed in relief simultaneously. "We do actually," the man said, pressing his hand on the woman's back, "we were just trying to find our way to the closest town and call our friends. Our bus dropped us off at the wrong stop." He shrugged his shoulders, both of them smiling sheepishly. "Well if two don't mind riding in the back, Ambrose is right down the road from here, just a five-minute drive." They nodded gratefully and Lester got out to hand them a towel to sit on, helping them spread it out in the bed of the truck.

Leslie kept her eyes forward, her body paralyzed in fear. Tears welled up in her eyes as her hands started to shake. '_Are we really about to take them to their death_?' she asked herself, '_This can't be happening._' Lester hopped back into the driver's seat at that moment, purposely flashing the knife that was now back in its holder and giving her a stern look to keep quiet. She looked away, her lips pressing together tightly as the tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

When the pulled to a stop next to Bo's service station, Leslie closed her eyes completely. She felt nauseated to her core as she heard the people jump down from the back of the truck, stepping inside the gas station, Bo's voice greeting them. After a minute or two, she got out of the truck herself. She glanced inside the shop, the couple had their backs facing her, but Bo and Lester were both nonchalantly looking past them and staring her right in the eyes. Her body leaned towards them, desperate to help the hitchhikers somehow. She could almost see Bo take a sharp inhale and his jaw tighten through the glass window.

But she ended up taking off back to the house, frantic to get away from all four of them. Once she was back in her bedroom, she slammed the door behind her and leaned her back against it. Sobs wracked throughout her body and she slid down to the floor. She was a coward and she knew it; scared for them, but terrified of her own captors. Minutes turned to hours and the sun set behind the trees, and Leslie fell asleep on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees and tears continuing to run down her cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7

About a month or so had passed since that fateful day. The new arrivals were now a part of the wax museum after Lester and Bo knocked them out and dragged them up to Vincent's workshop. Leslie thought about it constantly, even though she hadn't been there to witness it. Bile would rise to her throat as she imagined it, then wondered how she had managed not to meet the same fate. And the whole situation just reminded her that she wasn't really friends with any of the Sinclairs, she was their hostage, nothing more.

She walked into town, averting her eyes from the House of Wax and feeling disgusted at herself when she did. She had let the couple die, even though she could have tried to warn them, despite the consequences. Once she reached the church, she sat down on the steps, leaning her head against one of the pillars. She let out a long sigh as she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The intense feeling of guilt washed over her once again and her eyes automatically fixated on the museum.

Tears blurred her vision and she impatiently brushed them away. She turned her head and the golden figure of the cross that was nailed onto the door caught her eye. She remembered where she was sitting at and stood up, turning to walk inside the church. The afternoon sunlight lit up the small room perfectly even without any of the ceiling lights turned on. A shiver ran down her spine at the sight of the wax statues sitting in the pews, but the moment she stepped into the sanctuary, the undeniable feeling of peace came over her.

Bo must have been in there recently, because the lid of the coffin was now closed; not that Leslie had a problem with it. She doubted she'd be able to remain inside the church for very long with the dissatisfied expression on the matriarch's face staring her down. When she reached the front row of pews, she noticed the large tape recorder sitting next to the piano, playing a copy of hymn music. She frowned at it; the music was far too dreary for how beautiful it looked in the room.

Stopping the tape, Leslie looked up at the piano curiously. '_I wonder if it actually works_,' she thought to herself, stepping towards it. Luckily, Bo must have also moved the figure of the piano player because the seat was now empty. She sat down shyly, her fingertips dusting across the keys. She almost leapt up in surprise when the air was suddenly filled with crystal clear piano music. She paused before deciding to play random scales.

But when an unintentionally familiar sounding melody started playing, Leslie stopped. She pushed down on the keys, trying to remember how exactly the song she was thinking of went. Soon enough, she got it right and started to sing along, sounding as if she had perfected it just yesterday.

_There's a song that's inside of my soul_

_It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again_

_I'm awake in the infinite cold, but you sing to me over and over and over again._

_So I lay my head back down, and I lift my hands and pray_

_To be only Yours, I pray to be only Yours_

_I know now You're my only hope._

_Sing to me the song of the stars_

_Of Your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again_

_When it feels like my dreams are so far_

_Sing to me of the plans that You have for me over again_

Leslie continued playing and singing the chorus without skipping a beat, but started going deep in thought. What if there was a reason for her being here, in Ambrose, with the three brothers? What if this was part of God's plan for her? Could she do good for them? She kept on pondering as she reached the climax of the song, a burst of light making them room practically glow.

_I give You my destiny, I'm giving You all of me_

_I want Your symphony, singing in all that I am_

_At the top of my lungs, I'm giving it back_

The music abruptly stopped as she lifted her hands into the air and her eyes closed, spirit flowing through her, bringing joyous tears to her eyes. It was like the Lord was telling her to go forth, do the best to her ability to help the Sinclairs and get them back on a positive track. With the sudden clarification overcoming her, Leslie began playing the music again.

_So I lay my head back down, and I lift my hands and pray_

_To be only Yours, I pray to be only Yours_

_I pra-ay to be only Yours, I know now_

_You're my only hope._

She hummed to the tune of the piano as she finished the song, bowing her head to pray after she was done. But she was so deep in her private worship that she didn't see Bo stand up from the back pew, re-opening the front doors and sending another bright ray of light inside the sanctuary before quietly shutting them behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Leslie spent all of her free time in the church after re-finding Christ. She would leave the house as soon as she could and head down into town to read the Bible or play the piano some more. She used to play in college, but it had been quite a few years. So, in order to help her read the music, she would play hymns she knew by heart and used their tunes to distinguish which notes were which. Each time she went there, she was filled with such joy, such happiness, and that helped her get through each day. She had already trusted God in using her as He saw fit, and knew that everything would play out at the right time.

One morning, as they all ate their breakfast, Leslie began studying Vincent. She didn't know much about him, since he was such a quiet person, a loyal follower of his twin. She averted her eyes whenever he would catch her staring and would become very preoccupied with her cereal. But she couldn't keep herself from looking at him; she was suddenly very drawn in by him, wondering what kind of person he was deep down. She collected everyone's bowls and plates once they were finished and quickly washed them, eager to get back to the church. The Sinclairs left in a hurry, but Vincent took his time walking by her, giving her an almost curious look as he tried to figure out why she was so interested at him all of a sudden. But like Bo said, he was just a freak, so he was used to being stared at. Letting out a muted, saddened sigh, Vincent passed by Leslie, leaving the house through the door in the back of the hallway to go to his studio.

After putting the clean dishes back in the cabinet, Leslie walked out the front door and casually made her way down the dirt pathway. Looking up, she saw that the sky was a beautiful shade of blue, splattered with fluffy white clouds here and there. A sweet-smelling breeze blew through her hair, causing her to smile and add a little hop to her step. She pushed the doors of the church open and sighed in content. It came as a surprise to her how relaxed she was around the wax worshippers now, considering that most, if not all, of them were once living people. She shivered lightly, stepping closer to one particular statue an African American woman, her eyes closed like she was deep in prayer. She didn't dare touch her face, but could tell how Vincent had purposely sculped her to give off the element of grief; that made her a perfect feature in the funeral setting.

As she walked back to the house, she passed by one home that always caught her eye when the old woman figure pulled back her curtain, as if nosily spying on passersby. Leslie glanced around nervously, feeling as if she would get caught, before opening the latch on the front gate and stepping into the tiny yard. As if on cue, the curtain opened again, giving her a better look. In the short time that the woman was exposed, Leslie could already tell how detailed the figure was. The lines on her ancient skin looked so perfectly accurate, it was no wonder people mistook her for being real. And that fact gave Leslie an idea so unexpected and powerful that she now ran, not for the Sinclair house, but toward the House of Wax.

* * *

Vincent's head jerked up as footsteps he didn't recognize marched down the stairway behind him with a purpose. He was shocked to see Leslie appear in front of him, a look of determination on her face. "Sculpt me." He sat still, thinking he might have misheard her, and stared, waiting for her to speak again. She sat down on the stool next to his and looked him directly in the eye. "I want you to sculpt me, Vincent. I've seen what you can do and how talented you are, but I want to see you do it... without the help of the person underneath."

He gaped at her, and his jaw would have dropped if his mask would have allowed it. He had never thought about it like that before; how good of an artist was he if he couldn't make a wax figure without using the shapes and lines of the human to guide him? While he pondered this thought, Leslie stood up, pulling the chair with her. She quickly sat back down and made a natural looking pose- her legs crossed and her hands in her lap as she looked straight ahead. "You could take pictures from different angles to start off with," she suggested, trying to keep still, "And I can always model for you when it all starts coming together."

He continued sitting there, gawking at her in amazement. His brothers didn't have the kind of energy that she did; she kind of reminded him of his mother whenever she got inspired. With that reminder, he raised himself off the chair and pulled an old-fashioned Polaroid camera from out of one of the desk drawers. The room was filled with bursts of light as he clicked away, spinning around the room as he got each and every point of view with his camera as Leslie remained frozen, secretly giddy that she was able to incite the passion in him that she knew every artist has.


	9. Chapter 9

Throughout the next couple of weeks, Leslie sat down with Vincent in the basement of the wax museum, watching patiently as he smoothed out the details of her face and torso. She was careful not to let herself get attached to him; she had already made that mistake before with Lester and was in no mood to get her feelings harmed again. As he sculpted, she watched him, silently admirable of his creation; he had almost perfectly captured her likeliness from scratch, right down to the mole on her forearm.

One day, their peaceful artistic time was suddenly interrupted by the sound of stomping coming down the stairway. Leslie flinched as Lester came right up to her and leaned down so that they were face to face. She hastily fixed herself, getting back in her position before Vincent could growl in frustration. "I need to talk to you," Lester said, ignoring his brother, who was now standing and about to throw him out. "I'm kind of busy," Leslie responded through clenched teeth while maintaining her pose. He sighed impatiently and turned to Vincent. "Can I borrow her real quick, Vince?"

Vincent rumbled deeply in response, but waved his arm and turned away. Lester grinned and grabbed Leslie's arm, roughly pulling her up and began hauling her off down the tunnel. They didn't stop running once they reached the house; he dragged her all the way through the kitchen, up the stairs, and only stopped when they got to his bedroom. "Oww," Leslie mumbled as she sat on the bed, rubbing her shoulder. She was greeted with silence, causing her to look up at Lester. He was staring at her with a strange, unwavering look in his eye, but suddenly looked very nervous.

"Lester?" She spoke his name softly, already bracing herself if she needed to prevent him from falling down. But he composed himself after a brief moment, then walked over to sit down beside her. He paused, fumbling with his hands, and she waited tolerantly for him to say what he needed to say. "I'm sorry," he eventually accomplished in saying. Her eyes enlarged in bewilderment, but she didn't say anything else, knowing he had more to say.

"I'm sorry, Leslie," he continued at a fast pace, "Me and you were getting along so well, and I ruined it, and I'm sorry." He stopped, looking her dead in the eye, awaiting her response. However, she couldn't find her voice. Her thoughts rushed through her mind like a speeding bullet; she was thankful that Lester realized how badly he had hurt her feelings, proud that he actually came to her to apologize, but then her point of view turned to mush as she gazed into his eyes. She felt as if he was staring at her soul. But she knew that she couldn't trust him, not him or his brothers.

But she blinked, compelling herself to at least reply to him. "I forgive you," she said faintly and gave him a small, yet reassuring smile. He sighed in relief, glad that he finally got all that off his chest. They stood up together and he escorted her back to Vincent's workshop, Lester leaving them to finish today's portion of sculpting. Leslie went over the scene that had just happened in her head multiple times as she sat for Vincent. When she finally reached a conclusion, she knew that she did indeed forgive him, but that didn't stop her from keep a tall, sturdy wall up in front of her, preventing any from getting too close.

* * *

Leslie shut the refrigerator door after she poured herself a half of glass of milk. The clock on the wall that was lit up by moonlight told her that it was already 1:45 in the morning. She sighed while she squirted some chocolate syrup into the cup; ever since she was little, chocolate milk always helped her get back to sleep whenever she was restless. A noise from behind her made Leslie jerk her body around in the chair, only to see Lester standing there in the doorway.

Her eyes moved down his body as she took in the sight of him shirtless, only wearing a pair of cotton sweatpants. He always looked so short when she saw him at a distance, especially since he wore his pants so high on his waist. But this time, they hung right on his hips, perfectly showing off the v-shaped lines leading down to his groin. She turned away quickly, blushing, and tried desperately to get the improper thoughts out of her head.

"Can't sleep?" she managed to spit out while studying each of her toes. She saw him shake his head from out of the corner of her eye. They stood there in stillness, Leslie stirring the spoon in her glass and Lester rubbing his eyes tiredly. She still felt a little awkward from their conversation earlier; she didn't really know what to say at this point in time. So as she sat there uncomfortably, her eyes rose, not seeming to be able from stopping them from lingering on Lester's lower body. After a minute, he cleared his throat, making her jump an inch off her chair.

She glanced back up, her face reddening as he smirked at her. Knowing she had been caught in the act, she stood, beginning to walk down the hall to her room. But Lester's voice stopped her. "By the way, I don't know know about my brothers, but I'm not." Leslie turned back, forcing herself to look at his face. "Excuse me?" she asked confusingly, her eyebrows furrowing. He smirked at her teasingly before replying. "I'm not hairy like that guy on Spongebob." Her eyes widened and her blush now deepened. "Goodnight Leslie," he said, winking, then heading back up to his room.


	10. Chapter 10

The next afternoon, after Vincent was done with molding the impression of Leslie's face, he astounded her by giving her a gift. "Ohh, Vincent, thank you so much," she said gratefully as she looked over the supplies he had laid out on the table. There were three decent-sized canvases, a basket filled with tubes of paint, and a complete set of paintbrushes right in front of her. Vincent had even thought to sit a cup of water and a small stack of napkins down on the corner so she could wipe the brushes off. He pulled out his desk chair for her, gesturing for her to sit down. She smiled appreciatively and did so, her eyes continuing to dart over all the new items. Vincent left the room, giving her some privacy.

She placed the first canvas down and dipped one of the larger paintbrushes into a pool of orange paint before coating the entire surface with it. Next, she added shades of red and yellow, creating a sun-lit landscape right before her eyes. She nodded to herself, pleased, before squeezing out some green paint. After merely forty-five minutes had gone by, Leslie had produced a beautiful scene of a sunset from the point of view of someone sitting on the top of a hill. It was so realistic, it took her own breath away. Not wanting seem ungracious towards Vincent, she hurried to clean up her mess, making sure that all the paintbrushes were clean and that the desk was spotless.

Leslie skipped down the hallway and into the living room of the house, so happy and carefree that she almost skipped right into Bo. "Well aren't you in a good mood?" he drawled, catching her before she fell backwards. She gulped quietly, intimidated; he always made her nervous for some reason. But she still remembered her manners. "A little," she said politely, not wanting to be rude. He bobbed his head and they just stood there in an awkward silence until Bo mentioned something about having to go clean up his shop.

She had just begun to turn when he spoke again. "Hold still," he said as he veered towards the kitchen, "you're bleeding." Leslie looked down at her arm confused, but then laughed. "It's not blood," she explained, "it's only paint." Bo stopped short, a wettened paper towel in his hand. Leslie stopped chuckling when she took in his incredulous expression, her blood running cold. "Paint?" She gasped inwardly, goosebumps now covering her arms at his voice. "Umm... yes," she stammered, "V-Vincent gave me a few canvases and said I-" "He what?!" Leslie stopped talking, afraid to continue.

Bo stepped towards her, almost like a tiger stalking his prey, and gave her a questioning look. "Please don't be mad at him," she pleaded softly, but he threw down the towel and stormed to her, getting right in her face. "How dare you. Who do you think you are, coming into my house and telling me what I should be feeling and who I should be mad at!" The house shook slightly as he yelled, but he ignored it, and also how she trembled, her face going completely white. They remained like that for a long minute, their noses touching with the close proximity, while he snarled at her. But eventually, he leaned back up and walked out the door without giving her a second glance.

Once the door shut, the whimpering began. Tears ran down her cheeks as hysterical sobs overcame Leslie's body, not even stopping when she crawled to her bedroom on her hands and knees. When the tears ran out, Leslie took to gasping, struggling to calm herself down without much success. And with all the noise she was making, she didn't hear Lester open her door. All of a sudden, a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around her and a putrid odor filled her nostrils. She jerked back in fright, but sighed with relief when she saw who was sitting beside her.

Ignoring the smell, Leslie allowed him to hug her again while she stained his shirt with tears. "Why does he hate me so much?" she wheezed, still crying uncontrollably. He gently rubbed her back, waiting for her to sobs to subside before he answered. "He knows you're strong," he replied simply. She sniffled a little bit more, then looked up at him with red, teary eyes. "What?" "I said, he knows you're a strong person," Lester repeated, "He wants to be the top dog around here and will do anything to make sure that happens. But you're strong, Leslie, and that kind of scares him a bit."

Leslie exhaled at this, feeling very taken aback. "I scare him?" Even though everything Lester said made sense when she really thought about, the idea of Bo Sinclair himself being unsettled by her was something she couldn't wrap her mind around. It was then that she noticed that Lester was staring at her in that same determined way as he was yesterday. Her breath caught in her throat as he looked at her, his gaze unwavering. And just like it was last month, the two leaned in closer, but this time no one came through the door.

The instant their lips pressed together, a frenzy set in for the both of them. They gasped, their fingers automatically becoming knotted in each other's hair, their blood boiling so hot that it came as a shock that they didn't combust into flames. Lester lay back, pulling Leslie on top of him, their lips never parting. Her hips impulsively ground against his and they moaned, both of their heads falling backwards in pleasure. One of Leslie's hands moved down to Lester's chest and clutched at his shirt, nearly tearing it in the heat of the moment.

"Lester?" The two froze, not expecting to hear another voice in the house. As Lester hurriedly lifted the both of them back upright, Leslie glanced out the window. She was surprised to see just how much the afternoon sun had set, making its way down to the horizon. He gave her one last kiss before heading out the door to see what Bo wanted, leaving her alone with her thoughts.


	11. Chapter 11

Leslie looked at her reflection in the mirror, double checking her appearance before she left the room. She gave a last glimpse to the note she had put on her dresser, the one Lester had slid under her door that morning. _Darling Leslie_, it read, _I would very much appreciate your company for dinner tonight. It will start at 7 'o clock sharp. Lester._ She giggled softly, enjoying how fancy he was trying to sound. Tucking one last stray hair behind her ear and smoothing her simple black dress, she opened her door, but paused right then, taking a step back.

All the downstairs lights had been turned off, the only light coming from the back of the hallway and flickers from the kitchen. Curiosity getting the best of her, Leslie inched her way there and poked her head past the door frame. There in front of her a candlelit dinner setting: the same worn down table covered with a beautiful [tablecloth material?] cloth and long candlesticks, a glass of wine at both of the table settings. And Lester was standing there too, clean shaven and wearing what was probably his fanciest set of clothes he owned- a perfectly pressed colored shirt and blue jeans without any holes in them. When he noticed her in the corner, he smiled and offered his hand. "After you," he said, pulling out her chair and waiting until she had sat down before he did.

"Lester... this is amazing," Leslie said, studying the meal he had made for them. A roasted chicken, rice, and rolls of bread sat in front of them, and even their plates had a ring of garnish around them. She watched him cut the chicken with ease and fill her plate for her, setting it back down without a clatter. They ate in silence, simply enjoying the delicious food and each other's company, but Leslie was aware there was a reason behind this nice dinner. So once she was finished, she sat her fork back down and glanced at him.

He sat his glass down, swallowing audibly in nervousness as he took her hand in his. "Leslie, there's something I wanted to make clear here," he began, making sure she was looking him in the eye. She nodded once and waited for him to continue; he took a slightly deep breath and spoke again. "I don't want there to be any confusion: I want you, all of you. Just you and me together, no tricks and no lies." She blinked in surprise, not expecting those words to have come out of his mouth. Leslie was also shocked to find that her mouth had went dry; she realized that he was very successful in swooning her.

She quickly took a sip of the wine and cleared her throat, but still couldn't speak. His piercing brown eyes gazed into hers, causing her heart to beat faster. She knew that she had fallen for him right then and there, and there was nothing she could do about it. They had both subconsciously leaned in close, their faces only inches apart; they breathed in each other's scents: hers sweet, like fresh rain, his a musky, almost pine smelling aroma. The two lifted off their chairs simultaneously and walked around the table to stand face-to-face, warmth radiating off each other. And this time, they both swallowed loudly, already wrapping their arms around the other's waists and pressing their mouths together, their minds overpowered with passion.

Afterward, they lay in Lester's bed gasping, still pulling each other in close while staring into the other's eyes. Lester cleared the strands of hair from out of her face, caressing her soft skin with the back of his hand. Her face was flush with color and her lips trembled as she took each trembling breath. "Contrary to what you might believe, I do care very much about you," he said, rubbing his nose against hers. She smiled in return and drew closer to him. They kissed heatedly and they began another round of lovemaking, knowing that it would be nearly morning before they finished entirely.

* * *

The two walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, hand in hand, only breaking their grip so they could sit down. And it wasn't long before Bo eagerly broke the silence. "You guys do realize that we could totally hear you last night," he said, smiling slyly. Leslie just looked at him confused; Bo shared a sideways glance with Vincent and smirked even bigger. Then, he suddenly jumped up and started thrusting against the kitchen table. "Ohh Lester," he moaned, the cups full of orange juice sloshing as the table jerked around, "Yes, right there!" Bo finally sat back down, bursting into laughter while Leslie looked down at her lap, her face as red as a beet.

However, Lester wasn't bothered; he grinned hugely, high fiving Bo when he raised up his hand. "Lester!" Leslie complained, slapping him on the arm, her eyes now wide. He shrugged in return. "Thin walls, darling." Bo ignored Leslie's horrified to question his brother on the details, right in front of her. "You wanna see my scratches?" he asked, lifting up his shirt to reveal the multiple red marks on his back. Leslie's eyes bulged out even more and she groaned as she left the room. Of course, this didn't stop the men from continuing to high five and be... well, men about it.


	12. Chapter 12

The four sat on the living room couch, the tv playing in the background while Leslie tried to explain Pokemon to Lester. "So, you're saying those little critters live in those little balls? How do they get fed?" Leslie sighed, rubbing her temples with her fingers. "It's not supposed to make sense, it's supposed to be entertaining!" Bo chuckled under his breath at their banter, earning a glare from the frustrated girl. He pressed his lips together and pretended to lock them shut and throw away the key, but she just scowled in return. She had never that big on being patient; she knew it was something she needed to work on.

Instead of continuing to try to clarify the show's concept any longer, Leslie decided to get up and walk into the kitchen. Luckily, it was almost lunchtime anyway, so she bent over to get a pan from underneath the stove, thinking of making them grilled cheese sandwiches. A pair of hands on her hips made her yelp in surprise and stand back up in a flash, only to find Lester standing behind her grinning. "You scared me," she said breathlessly as she turned herself around to face him completely. "Sorry," he mumbled, already kissing her neck, not sounding very sorry at all. She purred in contentment, feeling his hands make their way down to her lower back.

She caught his hands before they could go any lower and gave him an unconvincing stern look. "I need to get started on the food," she reminded him, making him whine in protest and she giggled. He settled for holding onto her waist from behind her, not letting go while she buttered the bread and flipped the sandwiches over in the pan to get them perfectly golden brown on each side. He nuzzled his face next to her neck as she finally sat the plates down on the table and whirled her back around so he could kiss her. She squealed when he picked her up and sat her on the counter, still smooching her.

They heard Bo fake gag when he and Vincent came into the kitchen, their noses having caught the scent of freshly made food, and Leslie forced Lester's mouth off hers. She smiled at him, intertwining their fingers and leading him over to the table, their hands still locked together as they ate.

* * *

About four months passed by with many moments like this, but before long, Lester and Leslie's relationship started going sour. They would fight constantly over silly, little things and just got on each other's nerves in general. His brothers were no longer concerned when they didn't see Lester at the dinner table anymore, since he took to eating after everyone had gone to bed. And they had gotten used to the bitter expression on Leslie's face, even if she was just watching tv; Vincent mentioned to Bo once that she remained that way even as she slept.

One particular evening, Leslie was in her room, reading a book in bed, when Lester came in. She watched him warily as he came over next to her and leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She automatically pushed him back just as his lips touched her skin and covered her nose with the book. "Couldn't you have taken a shower before you came in here?" she complained, "You smell like rotten death." He sighed and rolled his eyes in frustration. "Well excuse me for wanting to be nice to you, Leslie." She sat up, glowering at him. "You could always be nice to me after a shower."

He pursed his lips together, fighting back the urge to snap back at her. "I don't get why you even bother, Lester," she said, "Why are you putting on this sweet act that you miss me or something?" "I do miss you," he said through clenched teeth, "but I do still have work to do around here." She scoffed in return, standing up and glaring before replying, "I know you work, but you work too hard, you're gone all day long." "Well maybe that's because those dead animals are much better company than you," he spat at her. "Why don't you just go fuck one of the animal corpses then, you filthy bastard?!"

Before she even finished speaking, Lester exploded with anger. His hand swung out and her head snapped to the side when his open palm connected with her face. He roared, lunging at her and tackled her to the ground. She groaned, hitting the ground hard, but that didn't stop him; he struck her again three more times, knocking her hands out of the way when she tried to stop him. The next thing she knew, her air was being cut off as he pressed his arm down on her throat. She tried to gasp, but the pressure was too strong. After trying to scratch him with her long fingernails, she struggled to push him off her completely.

Her vision started to blur and go dark, her strength giving out, when the door flung open. She could vaguely hear a scuffle above her, but was starting to blacken out when she found that she was breathing again. She was coughing uncontrollably after attempting to inhale deeply when she was lifted upward, Vincent's face suddenly in her line of vision. He wordlessly examined her, checking her throat, eyes, and hands before deeming her okay. She heard Bo dragging a still furious Lester out of the room, leaving her and Vincent alone. He gently caressed her shoulder, trying to comfort her, then rubbed at her cheek; it eventually occurred to her that she was crying, quite hysterically. Her entire body was shaking, causing the bed to quiver and even Vincent's long hair to sway slightly.

The next morning, Leslie awoke to a horrid pain in her throat. It felt as if it had caught fire the night before and was now starting to blister. Vincent, who was still sitting next to her bed, reached over to hand her a glass of ice water. She shivered, feeling the sense of deja-vu as she drank, remembering the similar situation but with an entirely different person sitting in that chair. She thanked Vincent for watching over her and quickly got dressed as soon as he closed the door behind him. There was somewhere she needed to be.

Just like her frazzled mood, the sky above Leslie was littered with clouds, the sun barely visible behind them. She paced down the town's main road, exhaling in relief when she caught sight of the church. It only took her two steps to get up the stairs since she was in such a hurry to get inside, but she stopped short when she heard a voice inside, followed by crying. She froze, knowing that Bo hadn't turned the tape recorder back on, and this noise was much more passionate sounding than the recording of a funeral. Leslie pressed her ear against the front doors and could hear Lester pleading much more clearly.

"Please, God, You've gotta help me. I just don't know what to do anymore." She held her breath as she listened, her heart breaking at the miserable tone of his voice. "I can't live without her," he continued, "but why would she take me back? I was like an animal, Lord. I flat out attacked her." His voice was quickly taken over by his sobs and his sentences turned unintelligible. Leslie fumbled back a few steps as her jaw dropped and the shock finally set in that Lester was in the church, praying for forgiveness. She realized she hadn't seen any of the Sinclairs in the church for a religious type of reason before.

She took a deep breath to help settle herself before she timidly opened the door. Lester was practically laying on the floor in front of the alter, his body convulsing as he cried. But when he heard the floorboards creak when she took a step inside, he spun around, his eyes going wide at the sight of her. "Leslie!" He crawled to her and clung onto her legs, looking up at her with his tear-stained face. "I'm sorry, Leslie," he said, staring at her desperately, "I should have never laid a hand on you, and I'm sorry, and I understand if you never wanna look at me ever again, but please, please just forgive me."

His words mushed together as he spoke, talking at a very fast pace, and it took her a second to comprehend what he was trying to say. An internal battle was already going on inside her brain, her feelings going into overdrive. His eyes continued pleading at her as she thought everything over and she found that she had to turn away to contemplate properly. Although she could still hear him quietly whimpering behind her, Leslie inhaled and exhaled deeply and went into prayer. '_What do I need to do?_' she implored, '_I love him... but he struck me, tried to kill me whether he realized it at the time or not. If I choose to leave him..._' But the feeling of dread immediately overwhelmed her at the mere thought of never seeing him again, and she fought back tears.

She was nearly about to drop her shoulders dejectedly and give up when the answer came to her, the one she needed to do to fix the situation. To forgive him, but not forget, and give all her troubles to God. Relaxation overcame her directly when she did so and she turned back to him. One of his hands was outstretched towards her slightly and he was still on his knees as he waited for her to speak. "I do forgive you, Lester," she said, walking over to him and kneeling down next to him, "it's the right thing to do, what He calls everyone to do." He trembled in relief and lurched forward, wrapping her in a huge bear hug. But when he finally pulled back, he stroked her face with the back of his hand with a sad look; he was the spitting image of a broken man, misery transpiring from deep within his core, and Leslie could tell that this was not just an act of guilt.

He left when she asked him; she needed a bit of privacy now. She closed her eyes and went to prayer, having a deep conversation with God about not only the events from the night before but how she needed His help to abide by his rules of being in a relationship. Because she knew she could never be truly happy without His presence in each and every aspect of her life. When she got up to leave, the clock on the wall told her it was already 11:45am, which was her cue to go back to the house and start lunch. She left the church with a smile and had a rejuvenated skip to her step as she walked back home, her grin widening as she realized that was indeed home, and her job here wasn't done just yet.


	13. Chapter 13

One early afternoon, Leslie and Bo were in the kitchen, Leslie fixing some beef stroganoff and Bo reading the newspaper. She fed Rusty, who sitting by her feet with his tail wagging, some scraps of hamburger as she cooked and was soon caught by Bo, who was known for going on a rampage about how "humans eat human food and dogs eat dog food." But she smiled back at him so sweetly that he let her get away with it a few more times. The delicious scent of the meal wafted throughout the house and before long, the other two Sinclairs joined them in the room.

The three men wolfed down their food in record time, even leaving bits of it flying onto the floor, where Rusty eagerly licked it up. After they had all finished, Leslie shooed them out of the kitchen so she could clean up and have some time to herself. She waited until they had left the house or went back to their bedrooms before running over to the radio. The entire downstairs was filled with Shangri-Las' "Leader of the Pack"; oldies music was one of her guilty pleasures. She danced around the room with the broom as she swept the floors, snapping her fingers to the beat as she put the dirt into the trashcan.

After she had clean the kitchen, she moved to the living room, taking the radio with her. She had just started wiping off the coffee table when "At Last" by Etta James came on. Squealing in excitement, Leslie began signing along as she swayed her hips to the tune.

_At last, my love has come along_

_My lonely days are over_

_And life if like a song_

_Ohh, yeah, yeah, at last_

She spun around, fluffing the couch pillows and straightening up the figurines on the bookshelves, her eyes closed as she continuing singing dreamily.

_You smiled, you smiled_

_Oh, and then the spell was cast_

_And here we are in heaven_

_For you are mine at last_

As the song came to an end, Leslie reopened her eyes and sung the last harmonizations soft, yet soulfully. As she turned around to put her cleaning rag back, she paused when she saw Lester in the hallway, leaning against the railing of the stairs. He was watching her with such absolute adoration that it took her own breath away. Then the fact that she had been caught jamming out made her blush, pink painting her cheeks as she looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't mean to disturb you." When he didn't say anything, she looked up again. Silently, he began walking towards her, pulling her in close once he reached her. "I love you, Leslie," he said, his voice dripping with sincerity, "and your interests are my interests. Luckily for me, I happen to love sixties music."

* * *

Dancing around together became a habit of the two. They would wait until late afternoon and just clear the table and chairs out of their way in the kitchen, which in their opinion had the best acoustics of the house. They would do the mashed potatoes and the twist, even adding their own variation to the Charleston. Sometimes, Vincent would come down and watch them, although he would decline Leslie's suggestion to join them. After dinner, when the sun had set and everyone else went to their rooms to get ready for bed, they would turn the radio back on again, but keep the volume down low so they wouldn't disturb his brothers. They would be washing the dishes together until a slow song would come on, then they would pull each other close, rocking side to side slowly as they stared into each other's eyes.

One particular evening, Lester pulled her over to the table after the song had ended and asked her to sit down. "I've got something very important to ask you," he said solemnly, looking at her to make sure she was paying attention. She nodded, only focusing on him. She watched him as he took a deep breath and rub his hands on his jeans nervously. Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him in slight confusion, waiting impatiently for him to actually speak. Finally, he looked back at her, staring her straight in the eye and said: "Leslie, will you marry me?"

She froze in shock, definitely not expecting those words to come out of his mouth, but before she could talk, Lester spoke again. "I don't want you deciding right now. I'm gonna give you a full month to think it through, and after that month goes by, you can give me your answer. I just don't want us to keep living in sin like this." She blushed, recalling the especially dirty sex they had the night before, and nodded in agreement. "It says in the Bible that it's supposed to be kept for marriage," he continued, her eyes going slightly wide that he had actually been studying his Bible, "but God would rather us get married, than just keep having sex out of wedlock." He gave her hand a squeeze and gave her a small smile before getting up and walking out of the room, leaving her alone to her thoughts.


	14. Chapter 14

Leslie sat in the basement of the House of Wax, feeling very jittery. One month had slowly made its way along and tonight, she and Lester were supposed to get together and discuss Leslie's decision on whether or not she wanted to marry him. In preparation for the dinner that night, Lester arranged for Leslie to get her hair cut by Vincent. He figured that if Vincent could handle making wax people look realistic, he could definitely manage trimming Leslie's hair. But what he didn't think of was how anxious Leslie was feeling about that evening; her foot tapped nervously on the leg of the chair, shaking her entire frame, and Vincent couldn't do anything until she sat still.

Trying to control herself, Leslie settled for drumming her fingers on the armrest and reminded herself to take deep breaths. It wasn't easy though; she had even thrown up that morning because she was so on edge. She just wanted the dinner to go perfect, or at the very least go smoothly. She tried focusing on the sound of the scissors snipping next to her ear, which worked in calming her down. Fifteen minutes later, Lester removed the towel from around her neck, brushed a few stray hairs from off her shoulder and held up a mirror for her to see. "Ohh, Vincent," she said breathlessly, "it's beautiful."

Not only had Vincent been successful in trimming her hair, but he went a step further and gave her a dramatic angled bob which suited the shape of her face better than her normal long hair. It was short in the back, much shorter than Leslie was used to, but longer as it got to the front, the hair grazing just above her shoulder blade. And with her natural waves, she looked just like a model: exotic and beautiful. Giving Vincent a grateful hug, Leslie ran off down the tunnel, now feeling eager to finish getting ready for dinner and hopefully impressing Lester with her new look. After clipping and painting her fingernails and toenails, it was already 8 'o clock and time for dinner.

But a wave of nausea overcame Leslie at that moment, making her take a few steps backward at the force of it. She clutched her stomach, automatically fearing that she would be too sick to eat. But when it passed as quickly as it came, she sighed in relief and took a couple more cleansing breaths before heading down the hall. Once again, Lester had turned off all the lights downstairs, but this time the only source of illumination wasn't coming from the kitchen. Confused, she peeked her head into the darkened kitchen, half-expecting Lester to pop out and scare her, but the room was empty. When she turned around, she then saw where the candles were.

Lester stood out on the front porch, wearing the new dress shirt and pants he had bought for the occasion. As she stepped out the door, Leslie took in the scene that was in front of her. The entire veranda was littered with mason jars, some with small tealight candles placed inside, others with bundles of wildflowers. He had put them on the corner of each step and on the edge of the porch itself, creating a picturesque (and fragrant!) setting. After taking a moment to take in every detail, Leslie looked up and noticed that Lester had a bouquet of the same wildflowers, wrapped with a cream-colored satin ribbon. She smiled at him and happily took the bundle, smelling them before reaching out and taking his hand.

He led her to her chair, pausing to give her a sweet kiss on the cheek before he sat down as well. Then they began eating while making small talk about their day and Lester giving Leslie several compliments on her "new do." But as Lester poured a second glass on wine into each of their cups, Leslie became jittery once again. She tried to get a hold on herself, remembering how she almost got sick again earlier and how her throwing up would definitely ruin the otherwise perfect night she and Lester were having. He seemed to notice her nervousness and gently took her hand, lifting her chin up with his finger.

She gave him a nod, understanding that it was time for her to give him an answer to his proposal. But before she spoke, he needed to give her a serious reminder. "If you marry me," he said, "you can't ever leave." She nodded her head and gave a soft sigh. "I understand," she replied solemnly, "but I'd rather live out the rest of my days here, as long as that meant that I'm spending them with you." He sat there, frozen still as he stared her in the eye. She grinned at him and continued. "Lester Sinclair, I would be honored to marry you."

A huge smile started spreading across his lips and Leslie watched as he began blinking feverishly; when she realized that tears were brimming his eyes, she leaned in quickly, pressing her mouth onto his. He kissed her back passionately, entangling his fingers in her hair, and she could feel the happiness radiating off of him. Now on the verge of tears herself, Leslie leaned in even closer, matching his enthusiastic kissing. When they eventually pulled apart, Lester let out a loud whoop. "She said yes!"

All of a sudden, the couple were surrounded by his brothers and were entrapped in a big bear hug. She felt Bo give her a congratulatory smooch on her cheek as Vincent shook Lester's hand and gave him a pat on the back. When they kissed each other once more, Lester's siblings cheered and they all hugged again, causing Leslie to giggle in amusement. "Now, future sister-in-law," Bo said to her in mock seriousness, "if you're going to marry my brother, you're really gonna have to start proving yourself around here." She raised her eyebrows and gave him an unamused look, making the both of them start laughing out loud. "I'm glad I have your blessing, Bo" she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

* * *

Over the next few months, Leslie planned her wedding in a hurry, wanting to get everything ready so that she could get married at the end of September, right in the middle of her favorite season: autumn. But it was a lot of work to get done, and even with all three men helping out, she tired easily and had to take multiple breaks to just sit down throughout the day. And the fact that she wasn't getting a lot done with all the resting time just added to her enormous stress load.

One day, just over a week until the wedding was supposed to occur, Bo came across Leslie sitting on one of the church pews, her head in her hands. He had noticed that she had started looking less excited and more depressed lately, so he went over and sat beside her. "Hey," she mumbled, keeping her head down. "What's wrong with you, Leslie?" he asked, tenderly rubbing her back. She exhaled heavily and finally looked up at him; he was shocked to see tears in her eyes. "Leslie..." he said softly, taken aback. She brushed away the tears impatiently and stood up, lifting up a t-shirt of Lester's that she was wearing, one that was extremely baggy on her.

He stared at her confusingly, not knowing exactly what she was trying to tell him. She rolled her eyes and sighed irritably as she grabbed his hand and pressed his palm on her abdomen. It took him a few seconds to think it through, but once he finally understand, he looked back up at her with his eyes bulging. "You- you're pregnant?" She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head up and down, not able to talk. He pushed down on her stomach, careful not to press too hard, and studied the prominent bump that was indeed there right above her hips. "I can't believe it," he whispered after a few seconds had passed by. Leslie just stood there and held her breath, almost fearing that he might lash out at her or even punch her in stomach.

However, he took her by surprise when he stood up and wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. "I'm gonna be an uncle!" he exclaimed, beaming at her with a proud look on his face. She laughed at him, but couldn't calm down quite just yet. "How am I-" "Now, don't you worry about Lester," he interrupted, already knowing what she was thinking about, "You just need to go tell him, the sooner, the better." She pouted, knowing he was right, but was just so scared to tell him, nervous to how he would react.

She got back to the house right before sunset as she usually did to try and relax before starting dinner, but found she couldn't even sit down peacefully. She started pinching her arms, a habit she picked up while being under all the pressure of being her own wedding planner. One of the bedroom doors opened upstairs; knowing it was Lester, she wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and stood up to face him. He came down the stairs casually, whistling to himself, but stopped when he saw his bride to be looking at him with an anxious expression. He rushed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders, examining her all over in an attempt to find a physical symptom of what was bothering her; he was used to her stress face, but this was something entirely different.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, taking her face in his hands so he could look at her properly. She squeezed her eyes shut, causing a lone tear to run down her cheek. He quickly wiped it away and clasped her face tighter, now getting scared that something was extremely wrong. "Leslie, please," he begged, "Please tell me what's going on." He watched her as she forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. After a minute, she opened her eyes again and lifted the bottom of her shirt as she did for Bo. But unlike his brother, Lester took one look down and immediately knew.

She watched him worriedly as he stared off into space. "I'm gonna be a daddy?" he asked softly. She bit her lip as she waited for him to say something more. Finally, he looked her in the eye and brushed her hair back. "Leslie, I already can't wait to marry you. This just makes me wanna marry you even more now." He knelt down and cradled the small bump. While keeping his eyes locked on hers, he leaned in and kissed her on the stomach, giving her such a huge grin that she had to smile back. He stood back up and kissed her on the lips. "But the question is, do you still want to marry me?" She laughed and nodded at him, giving him another kiss. "I do."


End file.
